The Marlboro Society
by JadoreJAC
Summary: They teach you growing up to steer clear of suspicious drinks and hard drugs, but never warn you about the boy down the street with the big house and hazel eyes. They never tell you that one day a boy will spark a fire in you that is unquenchable as the flames of Hell, and more often than not, they are not the people with whom you spend your life.
1. Chapter 1

**I have revised this story and am re-uploading. I am sorry for having to delete and re-upload the story, but this website has been glitching and wouldn't let me put any new chapters. I have rewritten the first chapter as Bella was too bitchy (in both my eyes and many of yours) and that's not who I wanted her to be. Enjoy!**

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_BELLA_

Rule #32: If under suspicion by law enforcement, never call your actual parents.

Officer Martin and I stood together outside of the Brawley Market Convenience Store, my cell phone pressed against his ear. The officer was raucously laughing, completely charmed by my "father" on the phone. It seemed that my older brother, Emmett, was successfully masquerading as my parent. This was our routine after all, one that we had perfected through experience.

My tip? If caught breaking the law, never fight the officer on contacting your parents to back your story up. My parents were blissfully unaware that I regularly smoked cigarettes - a habit that I had picked up from summers with Mémé, my French grandmother - or that I had acquired a fake ID in order to keep up my vice.

Which brought us to Rule #31: Acquire a good fake ID.

Mine was passable, but definitely questionable upon close inspection. I frequented this convenience store two miles from my home in New Canaan, Connecticut, from time to time, but this was the first instance in which an armed officer had been stationed outside its doors. One look at me, still in my bikini and coverup, requesting Marlboro Lights and it was done.

Thankfully, I had been through this drill before so I already had my brother's number saved under "Dad", with my actual father's contact info under his real name, Charles. Emmett was no doubt spinning the same rehearsed web of lies that he always did when I was in the prospect of trouble: "Yes, he was my father" (lie), "out of town on business" (lie). "Yes, Officer, my daughter _is_ 21" (lie, I was 17). A healthy dash of charm thrown in and Officer Martin was just another fly trapped in Emmett's web.

"Alright, Mr. Swan, you have a great night, too," Officer Martin chuckled and hung up the phone, handing it back to me easily. "I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding," he said sincerely, "this store has had problems with fake IDs in the past. You look so young, I'm sure you understand."

I smiled sweetly and nodded. "Of course. We can't have underage children getting into these things so early on." I threw in a wink for good measure and left Officer Martin chuckling to himself outside the store.

Once I was inside my car, I called my brother. "Hi, _Dad_," I said sarcastically when he answered.

Emmett laughed loudly, no doubt inebriated. "How's New Canaan?" He asked of home. Unfortunately, this would be home not much longer.

"Boring without you. How's Spain?" Emmett was on summer break from college and had been in Barcelona with his friends for the past two weeks. He'd be leaving straight from Spain back to Oxford University to study his second year of Chemistry in just a week's time.

"Fucking crazy," he jeered as a blast of loud cheers rang out.

"Why can't you adopt me?" I whined. "I want to be in Spain."

"Then I'd be your Brother-Dad and you'd _really _fit in at your new school."

I scoffed. "It's Oak Ridge, North Carolina, not Cousin Fucker, West Virginia."

Emmett laughed into the phone.

Emmett, my mother, and I were all regarded as dual-citizens, in both French and American nationality. My mother had been born and raised in the south of France until she moved to Paris when she was 18. There, she met my father while he was studying abroad. They married quickly, had Emmett and I two years apart, then moved back to America. My father's law career brought him to Connecticut, away from his parents and hometown of Oak Ridge, North Carolina.

Emmett and I usually spent summers in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, France, with Mémé at her little villa along the French Riviera. However, those plans were put to a grinding halt this summer when my dad's mother suffered from a heart attack; she had been alone when it happened (my grandfather died years ago) and had only been found because her lone neighbor stopped by to return a baking pan.

Gran was no longer suited to take care of herself, and my parents refused to put her up in a nursing home. So after a very lengthy discussion spanning the course of four weeks, it was decided that we would sell our house in Connecticut, and shift our lives to North Carolina.

"I wish you were moving with us," I said to Emmett after a moment of silence. Emmett lived in the UK throughout the school year, came home on breaks and holidays, and obviously spent the summers in France with me, my parents, and our grandmother.

"Hey now, I'm coming back on fall break," he said. "You'll have me for a full week and before you know it, it will be Thanksgiving and then winter break."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered.

I got off the phone with Emmett after he promised to be good until fall break, and I drove the rest of the way home. Our house was a typical New England structure, Cape Cod in its architectural origins, two stories, in a strictly gated community, and set at the end of a long driveway. Emmett and I had lived in Connecticut since he was five and I was three years old; this was home to us. It always would be. But like my mother always said, embracing change is good for the soul.

But North Carolina? I was thinking that was more along the lines of "_Chicken Noodle Soup_ for the soul."

The inside of our house was startling bare - a shock to me every time I walked the hallways or barged into the front door because of the sheer bareness of it. I was used to grand paintings on the walls, the vintage lamps that sat atop our tables, the small trinkets that signaled anyone had had a _life_ here. Everything was packed up and the house had never looked bigger.

My parents - Renée and Charlie - were in the kitchen, finishing their fourth dinner of takeout this week. The fridge was pitifully empty. Just like every room in this house.

"Hi, honey," Dad said around an eggroll.

I did a wave and plucked a piece of chicken from his tray.

"How was the pool?" Mom asked.

I shrugged. My friends in Connecticut were the kind you never formed deep, intimate relationships with. I had particular taste, and had never truly meshed on a genuine level with these people. Still, they threw me a going away party at the neighborhood clubhouse, a few tearing up as I gave them one last hug.

Tomorrow was moving day. All day in a car with Mom, and Dad with his pressed shirts and Brooks Brothers ties, driving a large, rickety moving truck with the remainder of our things. Most of our belongings had already been shipped to Gran's house.

Upstairs, I threw my bathing suit and coverup dress into a plastic bag, and showered off the chlorine. Freshly showered, I changed into leggings and a large Oxford shirt I'd stolen from Emmett that fell off my shoulders more than it stayed around my neck.

I slept on my bare mattress that night, the only thing left in my childhood room. The next morning, still in my leggings and baggy shirt, I helped my parents shove the rest of our possessions in the back of the moving truck.

And then I spent the next nine hours in my mother's Escalade, putting my past behind me and hurtling toward my future.

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**Hope you guys like it so far! Updates every Saturday!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope everyone is having a great Saturday! You'll find that my characters are going to differ from the original Twilight - both personality and looks-wise. Enjoy!**

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Gran's abode was a quaint stone house positioned on a vast expanse of green North Carolina land on the outskirts of town. Its backdrop was a horizon of dense forestry, and the only clue that hinted at neighbors was the neverending stretch of white fencing stamped into the ground on the opposite side of the street. Gran, of course, was ecstatic to see us, pulling us each into a tight hug before offering a plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies. We ate a few (dozen) and got to work unpacking and unloading while Gran rocked on one of the rocking chairs adorning her porch.

My bedroom was the last on a long hallway upstairs, tucked away from my parents and Gran's rooms that were on the opposite end of the house on the ground floor. It was painted an oatmeal shade, offset by two French doors that let in golden sunlight that streamed across the wooden floors. A canopy bed was the centerpiece of the room, pushed against the west wall and draped in gauzy curtains that brushed against the white knotted duvet.

I wasted most of the daylight by putting everything in its new, rightful place. My mother, rightfully fed up with takeout and fast food, decided she would make dinner. Late into the afternoon, she and Gran drove to the local grocery store. I was putting the finishing touches on my closet when my dad called me downstairs.

In one hand was a ripped envelope and in the other was a tri-folded paper. "It's the school-issued uniform list," he said, glancing over it. Rhett Academy was a semi-private school and required their students to wear uniforms, with the male students in a button up shirt, khaki pants, a tie, and an optional blazer. The females were offered a feminine version of the button up shirt and pleated skirt combo. The skirts were offered in a trio of colors: navy, maroon, or plaid. "Think you can handle getting these today?"

I gave my dad an amused look. "Drop by the school and buy uniforms? I think I can handle it, Dad."

He chuckled. "No, the school doesn't sell them. There's a store downtown that sells the mandated separates. I'll give you the address."

Since my mother was out grocery shopping and my father had scheduled a conference call with an old friend from college, I was on my own for the "shopping" adventure. The downtown area was a ten-minute drive away, small buildings containing eateries and boutiques built around a single railroad track. My destination was a small boutique on a main corner, centrally-located and painted dark green with a gold sign that read _Thread Shed_. Cute.

I parked in a general lot next to a bank. There were people everywhere: on the sidewalks, in the parking lot, waiting outside of the nearby restaurant. I stuck a cigarette between my lips and sparked my lighter. I grabbed the uniform list from my passenger seat before making my way across the lot.

Usually so aware and focused, I was surprised by a collection of voices that shouted warnings. I whipped around, narrowly avoiding a brown blur. The football landed near my feet, and a group of boys (I counted six) hurried over.

"Oh," one blonde boy gasped in surprise, "sorry! I didn't see you."

I shrugged one shoulder and picked up the football, exhaling a thin stream of smoke around the cigarette still dangling from my mouth; the smoke hung in the air before a small breeze carried it away and past one boy whose face was straight out of a magazine. Smooth tan skin flushed pink in the cheeks, brown hair, full lips a shade darker than his blush, and slashing cheekbones.

Lips pursed, I reared back like my father taught me and launched the football at him. Given the astonished look on his face when he caught it, I don't think he was expecting much force or skill from a girl who weighed 115 pounds soaking wet.

"Thanks," he called to me dazedly.

I mock saluted him with two fingers and swiveled, determined not to get a faceful of pigskin.

"Hey. Hey!" One of the boys was running toward me, the pretty one, his friends left behind. A fold of paper was in his hand. Breathless, he told me, "You dropped this."

It was my uniform list. I glanced up. In close distance and the natural light of the sun, his eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors - a hazel made of olive green, burnt orange, flecks of yellow, and ringed by a deep emerald. He also had these chestnut waves that twisted and tangled around one another to make the most unintentionally stylish bedhead I had ever seen on a boy. I briefly wondered what it would feel like to have my fingers buried in it.

"Thank you," I said, slipping the paper in my pocket.

He stared at me with a fill of expectation. "It's no problem." He smiled, white teeth framed by pink pillow lips. "I'm Edward," he offered.

I reciprocated with my own name.

"I'm sorry about almost hitting you. My friend isn't the best at calculating where to catch," he said.

"_Well_, you should watch where your balls are going," I suggested to him.

A surprised chuckled burst from his lips. "Yeah, well I'm usually pretty good at controlling them."

I looked him up and down, from the long legs to his thin waist to the fabric of his t-shirt stretched taught across his shoulders. "I'm sure."

"Edward!" One of his friends had inched close and waited there, staring at the two of us.

Edward looked back, a mixture of exasperation and annoyance dominating his expression. "I'd better get back," he seemed to hesitate. He searched my face - for what I didn't know - and when he didn't find it, turned and waved goodbye at me.

His friends watched me walk to the store in a way that I was used to, that desperate, unabashed teenage boy way. But that stranger boy, Edward, with the sex hair and come-hither mouth, he looked at me differently than I ever had been before.

He looked at me like I was an answer.

I shivered off his intensity before stepping through the doors of Thread Shed. Inside were racks of plain t-shirts in a myriad of colors, walls of shoes ranging from hunting boots to tennis shoes, a small corner dedicated to prom wear, and in the back, uniforms.

By the time every line of separates had been picked, my arms were overflowing. I had plaid skirts, navy skirts, burgundy skirts, as well as a whole slew of white Oxford shirts and sweater vests. A handful of ties and various blazers later, I had used every bit of the couple hundred dollars my dad had handed over before I left.

Outside, the group of boys were gone and the sky had bloomed into a beautiful sherbet masterpiece of pale orange, bright pink, and lilac. Just as I was shoving the bags into the backseat, my phone rang. I answered to hear my mother's voice.

"Want to meet me at the school? I figured we could get your schedule." She had already dropped Gran and the groceries off at home.

I agreed and followed her directions to the school which was just a few streets over.

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Rhett Academy was a brilliant brick establishment, with one giant building in the center flanked by two smaller ones. The inside was pristine, its walls an inviting beige, the floors glistening, and rows of lockers undented and deep blue. The main office was at the forefront of the building. My mother and I were greeted by a curvy redheaded receptionist.

My mother smiled, smoothing her hands down her willowy frame. "I was hoping we could go ahead and get a class schedule for Isabella Swan..."

The receptionist smiled, a fixed and faux smile that dripped with condescension. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we can only issue out student schedules early to a parent, _not_ siblings."

I was momentarily confused, as was my mother, until realization hit us both at the same instant. I was always told how much I looked like my mother, which was far from a bad thing considering she had modeled briefly in her twenties. Like her, I was long-legged and thin, with flowing honey brown hair and a peaches and cream complexion.

The only thing I hadn't gotten from her were my eyes; those were unmistakably my father's, a unique shade of caramel hard candy, orange topaz, and Jack Daniel's whiskey.

"I _am_ her mother. Renee Swan." My mother handed over her license to prove it.

The receptionist was instantly mortified, her complexion reddening to the shade of her hair. "I apologize!" She tweaked. "Of course I can get her schedule for you." She scurried away and down the hall.

Mom glanced over at me, a smirk tilted on her mouth. "I guess I've still got it."

The receptionist hurried back and gave me an envelope of information and apologized three more times.

That night, Gran was the newest addition to our family. We ate Mom's spaghetti and Gran told stories about my dad's hellion teenage days, commenting often how I was just like him.

It wasn't until I lay in bed that night that I gave a second thought to the pretty, pillow-lipped Edward. I thought of his sex hair and slick bubblegum lips.

It was one image I didn't mind falling asleep to.

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**Hope everyone is enjoying!**

**Thank you for everyone's reviews last chapter; I really loved reading them!**

**As usual, next update is Saturday!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I updated early - sue me ;)**

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North Carolina mornings were preposterously hot. Hot enough that I was forced, through necessity, to tie my hair up and wear sunglasses to shield my eyes from the unforgivingly bright sunshine. I felt a mild gratitude for the short pleated uniform skirt, burgundy against my pale skin, for allowing any sort of reprieve from the rising heat. God knows the Oxford shirt wasn't doing me any favors. My wrists were uncomfortably warm.

I drove to Rhett Academy in the 1969 Mustang Fastback that lived perpetually beneath the porte-cochère attached to the side of Gran's house. It was a relic from my dad's high school days, and was a glossy, glittering shade of teal. I felt infinitely cool, like an undercover Bond girl.

Rather than park in the visitor's section, as I had the first time I came to pick up my schedule, I pulled around to the right of the school where a sign shoved into the ground identified it as: STUDENT PARKING. It was already chock full with nice, shiny cars and then a few that were clearly on their last leg. It was easy to discern, just by a cursory glance at the parking lot, that Oak Ridge, North Carolina, was a well-to-do place with well-to-do families.

A crowd of similarly uniformed people milled about, enjoying, I guessed, the last tendrils of summer. I got out of the car and went around to the passenger side to A) kill time, and B) grab my bag. My brown messenger bag was a hand-me-down from my mother, so old the leather was soft and worn, and the Prada tag was holding on by just a thread.

The strap of the bag dug into my shoulder, weighed down by all the books required for classes. Rhett Academy was a semi-private school with an emphasis on the Sciences, and did exceptionally well integrating its graduates into top tier universities. Each student, upon starting at the Academy, chose a track, or focus, rather. My track was Molecular Biology.

However, judging by some of the girls I was seeing, I wondered if "prostitution" was an offered track. Sure, my own skirt was short (it reached mid-thigh) and someone had obviously turned the temperature to Hell, but I was seeing a lot more lace than was appropriate for 8 in the morning. Like booze, I thought, lace had a social construct against it being brought out too early in the day.

"Hey! Isabella!"

I jerked at my name - my full name, nonetheless. Looking my way was a group of people, none of whom seemed particularly familiar...but for one. And then I placed her. She had been wearing casual street clothes behind the school's reception desk when the whole secretary mistaking my mother for my sister debacle had happened.

Today, the girl wore the plaid version of the uniform skirt and a thin silk scarf fashioned as a headband. She was one of the only girls around, besides myself, that _wasn't _meticulously underdressed.

"Hi," I said, approaching uncertainly.

"I'm Rose," she informed me quickly. "I don't know if you remember me. I was in the front office yesterday when you and your _sister _came by."

I laughed and nodded. "Yes, I remember. It's just Bella by the way."

Rose stood at my exact height (5 foot 6) and she had thick hair of spun gold and intense blue eyes. She went on to introduce the rest of her friends to me.

The first was Jasper, an instantly charismatic guy with saltwater eyes and a shag of dark blonde curls. Next was a cadaverously thin Asian boy with pale yellow skin, a cap of hair black as an oil slick, and apparently, an affinity for flashy hand jewelry; he was Eric. Lastly was a trio of girls, each one blonder than the last: Chelsea, Bree, and Lauren.

"So, where are you from?" Jasper asked around a toothpick.

"Connecticut," I told them, "but I was born and lived in South France for a few years."

They fawned appropriately.

"I know who to cheat off of in French," Jasper joked. And I could tell that he was ribbing me. I doubted there was a student here that couldn't keep up with some rudimentary French considering the school's academic status. And with my linguistic fluency, French would be cake.

"Oh," Rose chirped, "let's see your schedule."

I wrestled it from my bag and handed it over. I had a few classes with Rose, who like me was science-tracked, most surprisingly French IV with Jasper (he must have been clarivoyant), and then Gym class with Rose and the Blonde Trio.

"Don't worry," Rose assured me, "Gym is really just Yoga or Pilates. Nothing too rigorous." It was gratefully last period and required no specific uniform - only suitable pants, shoes, and top.

And then, just like in a movie, the lot seemed to still and all eyes were on the coal black Range Rover that rolled in. I glanced along my peers' faces in confusion and then over to the Range Rover who had just parked; through its window was a vague face.

Then _he _emerged, Edward, the hotter-than-memory-served stranger from yesterday. He had those classic black Ray-Ban Wayfarers over his eyes - much like my own - and his hair was the perfect representation of bedhead. I smiled of my own volition.

"Edward," Lauren whispered his name like a litany.

It was easy to tell the way Edward strutted across the lot (the only thing that could make it better was slow motion) that people were often looking at him. It was in the way he held himself, tall and sure. It also didn't hurt that his face was worthy of angel's tears.

His stride stuttered momentarily upon locking eyes with me, but he continued on toward us, his mouth fastened into a small smirk. "Come to avenge your almost-demise?" He asked.

"Psh," I sounded, "you overestimate your throwing arm."

A surprised chuckle burst from his lips.

"Actually," Chelsea interjected bubbly, "Edward is the school's quarterback."

I eyed him appreciately.

"When did you get back?" Rose asked jovially.

Edward smiled, sunglasses still on, and hoisted his own messenger bag higher up. "A week ago."

Lauren hastily interjected, like a starved woman volunteering for a free meal. "How was Chicago?" Her eyes slid to me quickly, but with intention, and then back to him. I got the message clearly: she wanted me to realize she knew more about this beautiful boy than I did.

Edward stiffened minutely. "It was alright." He turned back to me quickly. "So you go here."

I looked down at my uniform and back up. "It would seem so."

"Wait," Rose began, "how do you two know each other?" She waved a hand between Edward and me.

Jasper laughed. "Edward almost hit her yesterday at Thread Shed." I hadn't recognized Jasper at all from yesterday.

"Excuse me," Edward said, "I believe it was _you_ who was supposed to catch the ball."

Jasper shrugged. "I can't catch if you can't throw."

A sharp, ominous bell blared in the distance.

Rose sighed. "Well, gang, let's get this show on the road." I walked ahead with Rose, only pausing once to look back at Edward. His face whipped up fast, obviously having been caught looking where he wasn't supposed to.

I stared straight ahead, a smile practically carved into my face. I couldn't agree more: let's get this show on the road.


	4. Chapter 4

I followed Rose into first period - AP English Literature - which we shared. It was an immediately homey room, the strips of fluorescent lights in the ceiling flicked off, and in their lieu amber-bright lamps glowed. Every inch of the walls was occupied by some English paraphernalia: scripted quotes, illustrated scenes from foreign literature, classic book covers blown up into posters.

The professor, Dr. Turner (all teachers at the Academy required a doctorate) was a petite woman with orange glasses and a toothy, manic grin. Rose and I sat at one of the two-desk clumps scattered throughout the room.

Class begin suddenly and with great fanfare. Dr. Turner erupted with a quote from Mark Twain: "_Education is the path from cocky ignorance to miserable uncertainty_!" She strode to her desk, picked up a coffee cup, and held it above her head. "Here's to uncertainty!" Her arm arced down and the cup crashed to the floor in a plume of porcelain shards.

What came next was a whirlwind of soliloquies, introductory exercises, and finally, an overture of the syllabus. There were four major pieces of literature that we would read, study, and dissect: "Hamlet", _Lolita_, _How to Kill a Mockingbird_, and "Romeo and Juliet".

It wasn't until an hour later, when Rose and I were out of Dr. Turner's room, that she spoke. "Wow. _That_ is going to be my favorite class this year."

I smiled over at her. "A propensity for the dramatics gets your gears going?"

Rose laughed, leading me to our second shared class of the day, DNA Science 1. "The craziest teachers are the best kind. They try, they care, they want you to flourish. I've always been warned of Dr. Turner's eccentrics," she explained, "but I've never been privy to the show before today."

DNA Science was in a cold, sterile-looking room with only a mere 15 desks. I wondered if there would be some sort of Hunger Games to declare what students could sit and which would stand. I got my answer minutes later.

"Only 15 students," Dr. Banner explained, "are granted entry into my class. This will not be a course in which you can do your assignments the night before and manage to scrape a C. No," he chuckled, "even if you try very, very hard, you will still probably only be able to manage a C. So," Dr. Banner paused, looking every one of us in the face, "put your very all into this class and you will reap great rewards."

_That_ I had heard. Supposedly, Dr. Banner carried great clout when it came to the Science-oriented students applying for top colleges. If there was one teacher to impress, it was him. There were no easy exercises with which to dip our toes into the water; we began the difficult assignments as immediately as being pushed off a cliff. The class, even with my previous private education and proclivity for Science, would be punishing and arduous.

Rose made me promise to find her at lunch (which was after 4th period) before we parted for our separate third periods. I entered French IV and sighted Jasper who was already sat in the back corner, pulling out the chair beside him for me. The entire class period, instead of conjugating verbs like he should have been, Jasper scribbled dirty words in French across his notebook making me laugh harder than was appropriate for French class.

My fourth period class was AP Physics. I chose a seat in the middle of the room as the back two rows were already occupied. Eric, the frail Asian boy from before school, walked into the room with inexplicable red sunglasses on and went straight for me, settling into the desk adjacent to mine.

"Bella, right?" He asked in a strong voice that juxtaposed his thin frame.

"Yeah, and you're Eric?" He nodded.

"By the way," he leaned in conspiratorially, "_love_ the vintage Prada." His eyes cast down to my hand-me-down messenger bag.

I smiled instantly. "Thanks."

"I only get out of bed for designer bags," Eric paused momentarily and added slyly, "and really dreamy boys. Speaking of..." Eric straightened up, throwing his black silk hair back.

Edward walked in, glancing around the room until his eyes landed on Eric and me. Again I was struck by the idea that only slow motion could make his walk any better. He had the kind of face and stature that people straightened up for. He wasn't just attractive. He was striking.

Edward sat in the desk that was in front of us. "Hey," he said softly, his voice honey over gravel.

"Edward," Eric murmured sensually. I sunk my teeth into my lower lip to keep from laughing. "Looks like we'll be a little ménage à trois for the semester."

I chuckled involuntarily, but it was thankfully covered up by the teacher entering, muttering apologies for her tardiness. Through the hour of Physics, I couldn't focus on anything the professor was droning on about. Everything was visual for me. Like the caramel color of Edward's summer-kissed skin, or the wavy bedhead that literally looked like he'd slept on it and went to school. It certainly didn't help to watch Edward loosen his dark tie in frustration, tugging at the silk roughly. And then, as if he could tell that his minute actions were getting me (and Eric apparently if his harsh breathing was any indication) a little hot, Edward unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, slouching back against his chair nonchalantly.

I needed lunch like a dying man needed more days.

I couldn't have left Physics faster even if roller blades were attached to my feet. I flung a waving hand at Eric and Edward when the bell rang, then hightailed it to the cafeteria. Edward was just a boy, albeit a beautiful one, but he was getting me twisted. I bought a Diet Coke quickly and joined Rose at a sunlit table in the corner of the cafeteria that was overshadowed by a large window. Jasper was already there with her.

"La jolie Bella," Jasper grinned cheekily.

I couldn't help but smile. "Effronté." Jasper laughed in surprise.

"How have your days been so far?" He then asked, "Because mine has been utter crap."

We told him of mine and Rose's two first periods together, and then she talked about her extra math class. I told them about Eric and Edward.

"Oh yeah, Eric has had the total hots for Edward since 8th grade, but it's mostly playful," Rose explained. "_Not_ to say that Eric wouldn't hop on the opportunity if Edward granted it."

"What opportunity and who am I hopping on?" Eric waltzed up to the table, his red sunglasses pushed back like a headband. He plopped down a bowl of salad.

"We were telling Bella about your gargantuan crush on Edward," Rose replied, spearing a tomato from Eric's plate.

Eric fanned himself exaggeratedly. "What I wouldn't give for a piece of that hunk. He looks like a Burberry ad on a Spring morning." I found myself grinning at Eric's antics.

We were soon joined by the Blonde Trio (Chelsea, Bree, Lauren), and finally, Edward. The table closest to us was a diverse group of guys and girls which Rose kept leaning back to talk with.

"Do you have any idea what Dr. Clearwater was talking about?" Edward asked me first.

I browsed my memory for anyone of that name. It was like my IQ dropped around him just because he was pretty. "Who?"

Eric giggled. "The Physics professor."

"Oh!" My cheeks warmed. "No, not a thing." And it's all because of you, buddy.

Edward smiled. "Me either. That's gonna be a fun semester," he said dryly.

"I'll say," Eric added. Edward missed the undertone.

Rose started introducing me to her friends at the other table (Angela, Jessica, etc.) and Edward and Jasper discussed football. In the midst of all this normalcy, Lauren said, "Edward."

Conversations flowed on like a river around a pebble.

"Hey, Edward," Lauren tried again, sturdier this time. "Could we go somewhere to talk?"

He looked at Lauren for the first time since sitting down. Their eye contact suggested familiarity and, beneath that, tension. He nodded like he wished he were elsewhere and they left through the cafeteria's double doors, a considerable distance between them.

"That was weird," I considered.

Jasper snorted, dangling a carrot between his fingers. "Understatement. Lauren is a ticking time bomb."

"What happened with them?" I asked.

Rose was the one who answered. "They dated for a while last school year, but broke up when Edward went away this summer." There was a heaviness to her explanation, an inexplicable edge.

Rule #30: Steer clear of boys who clearly have hangers-on, i.e. Lauren and Eric. Edward didn't seem like bad news, but his baggage surely did.

After lunch, I left everyone to go to my Biotech Research Lab. It was in the very back of the building, where I learned not many classes were. It seemed deserted, quieter somehow even though I could still make out the buzz from other students finding their classes. The lab was the last classroom on the left on a very long hallway, bright and white and clean. The professor was Dr. Banner again; I thanked my lucky stars - two chances to impress him.

Dr. Banner handed me a large plastic kit box that included all the utensils I'd need for the semester, then instructed me to find my lab coat among the pile. Mine was perfectly tailored and had my surname embroidered on the back. I took a seat at one of the lab tables along the wall, and rummaged through my lab kit. There were only eight people allowed in a lab so there would be four groups of partners. As my classmates trickled in slowly, Dr. Banner introduced himself and repeated his instructions. My phone buzzed from its spot in my bag. I grabbed it quickly and looked at it surreptitiously. It was a picture message from Emmett; he was sitting on a barstool, chugging a pint of beer. I shook my head. Emmett had a unique capacity for both beer and intelligence.

Warm air fanned my neck. "Cell phones are strictly prohibited." I turned in surprise and Edward laughed, touching the tabletop. "Mind if I sit with you?" In one hand was his lab kit and in the other, a lab coat with Cullen written across the back. Edward Cullen. It had a classic ring to it.

"Go ahead," I allowed. And then, because my curiosity knows no bounds, I said, "I'm surprised you made it in time."

Edward looked confused. "Why's that?"

"Your prison warden looked quite angry when she dragged you out by your ear."

His mouth was an O of understanding. "Yeah, Lauren doesn't quite grasp subtlety, does she?"

I shook my head.

Dr. Banner's lab was much like his DNA Science class: fast-paced, bubbling over with a wealth of information, with zero room for any sort of small talk. I took notes until my fingers ached, and then I wrote some more.

With ten minutes left of lab, Dr. Banner announced we were finished with the day's notes and allowed us to either sit and talk or leave for our last period of the day.

"What class do you have next?" Edward asked me.

I remembered, without looking at my schedule, that I had Gym last with Rose and the Blonde Trio.

"I have gym, too," Edward said, his voice perked. "Want to head there?"

We deposited our kits and lab coats in the lockers within the research room, and headed out into the hallway.

"You must be science-tracked," Edward started, "or else you wouldn't subject yourself to Dr. Banner."

"He seems like a good teacher," I said immediately, "but yes, I am. Biology with a molecular focus."

"Wow," Edward said with an open face.

"What's your track?" I asked.

"It's actually English," Edward confided, "but my parents insist that I take science classes as well." He leaned in privately. "My dad's private practice - Cullen Pain Care - and he's always held out hope I would follow in similar footsteps." He sighed. "They just want a secured future for me, and English is shaky at best."

"Well if you're going to do something, do it whole-assed. That's what _my_ dad always says," I chuckled.

Rule #29: If you're going to do something, do it well: be it lying, sex, or poker.

The bell rang in the middle of our venture, allowing a pouring of uniformed students to glom onto us. Edward and I were shoved into each other time after time, making our way to gym much slower than need be. His cologne smelled ridiculously expensive and inviting. Finally, after being stabbed by an elbow, Edward dropped back behind me and put a helpful hand to my back. We separated only to enter the gender-specific changing rooms. I quickly put on the Soffee shorts and Emmett's Oxford University t-shirt that I had stashed in my bag that morning, as well as the tennis shoes and socks I'd thrown into a plastic bag to keep the smell out of the leather.

Rose joined me soon after, clad in a similar outfit, and then twenty or so more girls. Coach Tanner, a perky blonde woman, informed us we'd just be walking the track around the football field for our first day. The day was beautifully warm, the sun a bright gold against the perfect blue sky. Rose and I were joined by Angela and Jessica, two of the girls from the other table at lunch. The boys' gym class was already on the football field, throwing footballs to and fro, others homoerotically wrestling around. Edward and Jasper were throwing a football back and forth to each other.

Edward was wearing casual gym shorts and a shirt with the sleeves cut off so deeply that the lines of his ribs were exposed. I wondered if I looked as dazed as I felt.

"You're drooling," Angela giggled.

I shook my head and managed a smile.

"Don't worry," Rose chuckled along, "no one's the wiser. Especially not his keeper." She tilted her head to Lauren who was up ahead with her two blonde friends.

"I don't understand how someone could be so gorgeous," Jessica complained, tying her frizzy curls back with a rubber band.

"So," I started, feeling it was a good time to get more information on his breakup, "what exactly happened with those two?" I gestured to Lauren and Edward.

Jessica jumped onto the chance for gossip. "Well they dated for, like, all of last year. But she was always more intense than he was. Don't get me wrong, Edward was a great boyfriend to her."

Angela nodded emphatically.

"But when," Jessica started.

"Watch out!" A panicked voice yelled suddenly.

Heads turned to behind us where a large girl was suddenly smacked in the face by a rogue football. She landed in a pile of flesh and limbs. Edward and Jasper were the first to run over, obviously the ones at fault, and leaned over the girl, asking if she was alright. Both gym coaches eventually arrived and deemed the girl okay. Jasper laughed privately to himself, not maliciously, more out of disbelief. Edward manically ran his hands through his hair, leaving it an even more appealing mess. And then he locked eyes with me, blame in his stare. People began going back to their walking and playing. I turned, and walked away slowly with Rose, Jessica, and Angela.

I smelled his cologne suddenly and his lips touched the curve of my ear. "I can't think straight around you." And then Edward ran back to the field, leaving me with tingling skin and a heartbeat that could hammer nails.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter and early update!**

**Translation: Effronté = cheeky or shameless**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sorry for yet another early update, but I'm going out of town tonight so I can't do the update Saturday. Enjoy!**

* * *

Wednesday night, after school and dinner, Gran asked me to drive her to a nearby neighbor's house. I helped her into the Mustang and we turned right out of our driveway. We drove for exactly fifteen seconds before Gran directed me to turn into a little gravel path. A pair of giant black wrought iron gates, already unfastened, manned the drive.

The gates led to a mess of trees, their green-tipped limbs so tangled in one another, it appeared as if they were large leafy tumbleweeds atop thick trunks. The sky, a cobalt evening blue, was snuffed out by the lush forest. Eventually the woods cleared completely, giving way to an quarter-mile long allée, guarded on both sides by elder oak trees. A massive house loomed in the distance. Stark white and sprawling, it was a two-story Greek Revival plantation mansion whose front was armed with eight towering pillars; both the porch and second-story balcony wrapped around the entire house.

"What is this place?" I breathed.

Gran chuckled. "The Cullen Plantation. Gem of the town."

"Cullen?" I said aloud. "Like Edward Cullen."

Gran nodded. "That's Esme's and Carlisle's son, yes."

I stored away the little tidbit that Edward Cullen was apparently my very close neighbor. I parked around the curve of the circular driveway, behind Edward's Range Rover, and helped Gran out and up the massive front porch. The grand front door opened with a 'woosh' and in the frame a glamorous woman stood. She was tall and statuesque, with copper hair, hazel eyes, and all the essence of a former beauty queen.

"Miss Swan," she trilled, reaching forward to gently hug Gran. "How are you?"

"Great. Thank you for asking, honey," Gran said, shuffling into the house.

"And who is this beauty?" The woman wondered, eyeing me up.

"This is my granddaughter, Bella. Bella, this is Esme Cullen."

Esme smiled and ushered me inside the house. It was done up with style that hinted at professional decorating, somehow both eclectic and touched by Southern grandeur.

"I brought my recipe for Strawberry Shortcake."

Esme squealed and took the recipe card from Gran, leading us into the gourmet kitchen. She already had baking supplies strewn out on the counter.

"So, Bella," Esme started, "how old are you?"

"Seventeen," I replied. "Actually, I think I know your son from school."

"Mom!" I recognized the voice and a moment later, Edward slid into the kitchen, dressed in only gym shorts and a maroon football jersey. His hair was sweaty and pushed back. "Oh. Hi," he said breathlessly.

"Edward, this is Miss Swan's granddaughter, Bella."

"Yeah," Edward said, his smile growing, "Bella and I are partners in lab."

"How nice," Esme chirped. "Well, why don't you give her a tour of the house while Miss Swan helps me bake."

When Edward had led me away from the kitchen and up a set of stairs, he said, "Sorry I'm all gross. Just got home from football practice."

Rule #28: The best things in life make you sweaty. I was currently imagining another scenario with a sweaty Edward that didn't at all include practicing football.

"Your house is gorgeous," I told him, admiring the bright walls and expensive artwork.

"Thanks," he said over his shoulder. "It's been in my mom's family for generations. She's actually an interior decorator so she decorated it all herself." He paused. "So I guess we're neighbors."

"We are," I grinned. "Looks like I have a partner-in-crime now."

Edward was an upbeat host, answering my art-fueled questions with bubbling enthusiasm. On the second landing, he informed me, "My room's down here." He walked ahead where a light at the end of the very long hallway glowed. The only other room on the hall was closed, its doorway completely shoved shut.

"What's this room?" I asked softly, pushing open the door. The lights were off but the bright moonlight bathed everything alight. White sheeting was thrown over furniture. A pretty chandelier was being ripped out of the ceiling by some invisible force. The walls were a macabre red.

The door was closed as quickly as it was opened. A blank hazel stare met mine. "We don't go in that room." And then he took my hand, leading me to his bedroom, and dropped it once we were inside.

An insatiable curiosity filled me. What was the Red Room's significance?

Edward's bedroom looked like a luxury hotel room. A huge, pillowy bed was the eye-catcher, with a chaise lounge against one wall, a computer desk against another, and a private bathroom. One wall functioned as basically a huge window.

"Sorry," I said gently, feeling uncharacteristically meek.

"No," Edward said quickly, back to his usual demeanor. "Don't worry about it. So," he changed subjects, "are you coming on Friday?"

Friday night, Edward was having people over at his second house on the lake. Really, how rich could one family be? Rose's birthday was Thursday and the party was in her honor.

"Of course," I replied.

He grinned, a sweaty, hot image against his soft bed. "Do you want to ride with me to school Friday morning? I can pick you up and then after school, you can help me set up at the lake house."

My heart beat double time. "You need help decorating for a birthday party?"

He looked me in the eyes so intensely, I wanted to blink away. "No."

Adrenaline crawled at my throat. "In that case," I smiled, "pick me up Friday morning."

Gran and I left soon after that when Edward's cell phone began ringing uncontrollably. Judging both by his reaction and the sheer volume of calls, I could wage a guess who it was.

As we were circling around the driveway, my buzzing brain drunk on Edward's sweat and cologne, I glanced over at his Range Rover. My, what a big backseat it had.

* * *

The next morning, Thursday, was Rose's birthday. I bought her a sprinkled donut and an 18th birthday card from the grocery store and surprised her with both in the parking lot before school began. The entire day I was jittery with expectations for the next day when I would sit shotgun in Edward's expensive SUV. I imagined it smelled like a combination of his skin and scent.

By lunch, I had to buy a sandwich just to calm down my excitement for the weekend with my new friends. The table was filled except for one of the Blonde Trio, who came barreling in with fifteen minutes left of lunch.

"God," Chelsea breathed, "Art sucks. Three paintings due by tomorrow!" She screeched, sliding into her seat. "I want to kill myself."

Suddenly, the table froze. No one made a peep for thirty seconds straight. Chelsea's face went from confused to horrified in two seconds flat. Edward stood fluidly and walked out without a word. The rest of lunch was terse, silent, awkward. The air was too charged for me to even asked what the hell had just happened.

Edward was absent from lab, so I went to gym by myself. Coach Tanner said we would be running the track once again. I changed and Rose and I went immediately to the football field.

Once we had started jogging, I finally asked, "What was that at lunch?"

Rose sighed, staring ahead. "You see that?"

Where Rose was staring stood a rock, the kind that schools had to display notes of school spirit. It was spray-painted bright red and in black letters it read: "RIP AMC".

"So," I prompted.

"Did you know Edward is a twin?" Rose asked me instead, rounding the curve of the track.

"No, I didn't." I was honestly surprised. I couldn't imagine Edward's beauty doubled.

"A twin sister," Rose clarified, her cheeks reddening. "Alice Mary Cullen."

RIP AMC. A lump grew in the base of my throat. "What happened to her?"

Rose watery blue eyes shifted to mine. "At the end of last school year, before summer began," Rose sniffled, "Edward found her...she hung herself from the chandelier in her bedroom."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter; have a great weekend!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I think I'm just going to change my update days to Fridays now instead of Saturdays; here's a little early update for the 4th. Those of you who celebrate it (my fellow Americans), have a safe 4th of July!**

* * *

Hearing about suicide on the news or internet has much of the same effect as hearing secondhand about murder or burglary. But when you hear about suicide firsthand, without all the distance and missing links, it strikes a chord.

It didn't matter that I didn't know Alice Cullen, and that I never would; it was heartbreaking.

"That's terrible," I choked out. I immediately thought of the Red Room in Edward's house, with the red walls, covered furniture, and the gorgeous chandelier hanging by wires out of the ceiling like a descending spider. A shiver ghosted through me.

Rose, still breathing perfectly fine through the gym-mandated run, said, "I know. It happened right before exam week, too."

I considered this. "Was she stressed about school?" I realized it was in bad taste to question a person's suicidal ideation, but the unknown triggered a curiosity in me that knew no rest.

"I don't know," Rose shrugged. "Edward was exempt from his exams and his family took him to Chicago for the entire summer."

Two mental puzzle pieces shifted together. "That's when Edward and Lauren broke up."

She nodded, slowing around the curving track. "Yep. He said he couldn't handle maintaining a relationship when he'd just lost his twin sister." We both came to a light walk. "Truthfully, I think a big part of Edward holds himself responsible for what happened to Alice."

"Why?"

"He was always off doing something last school year, with Lauren, with Jasper, or me, or someone else. Alice and Edward were always close - I mean, they were twins - but he got really busy last year."

I was sidetracked by one thought in particular. "You guys didn't hang out with Alice?"

"No," Rose sighed, as if this same thought plagued her, "Alice was a very sweet, very nice girl, but she kept to herself. She was extremely reclusive. I never saw her anywhere other than at school."

I pondered everything Rose had thrown at me for the rest of gym and all the way home. Tragedy has a tendency of sticking with you. I expected to see Mom's car when I got home, Gran's old Volkswagen even, but never a midnight black Range Rover. Edward's lean form was slumped on my front porch steps.

"You know where I live," I called out to him as I climbed out of the car.

"We _are _neighbors," he shouted back.

Oh, yeah. Right. "So, where did you go this afternoon? I had to do a lab all by myself." I sat gently beside him.

He peered over at me. "I'm sorry." We sat in companionable silence, the sounds of wind and birds chirping washing over us. "I'm assuming," he began, "that someone filled in the blanks for you."

I nodded and he registered it.

"The stench of scandal still hangs in the air like rotting garbage," he sneered. "I hate how everyone thinks of her now." His voice lowered. "No one can even say her name anymore without whispering it. Like I can't hear them." He chuckled coldly. "I've been conditioned to hear _that_ name."

I said the only thing that was appropriate. "I'm sorry, Edward."

Edward seemed stunned somehow by my contribution. "No, I'm sorry for unloading all this on you, a perfect stranger. It's just, I don't know..." He studied me intently. "Maybe it's because you didn't know Alice so you have no preconceived notions about her or what she was like." He stared out into the great big world. "Everyone else remembers her by her suicide." A moment's pause. "She was more than a death."

Sensing that my words could add nothing of substance to the conversation, I slid my hand to rest atop his.

"Alice was the nicest person anyone could ever meet," he finally said. "That's what people saw in her. But behind the scenes...she suffered from severe anorexia, and depression, and was a manic bipolar. But never once did I ever believe her to be sad enough to do _that_."

"You can't try to understand a person's suicidal logic," I reasoned.

"Yeah," Edward muttered distantly.

After what seemed an appropriate amount of time, I asked, "So, I'll have my partner back tomorrow?"

He looked back at me, mischief threatening his pretty features. "How else would I have an excuse to pick you up in the morning?"

I smirked.

And then suddenly, he said, "Your eyes are stunning. Like...right before that last sliver of orange sun disappears on the horizon."

My cheeks blazed in happiness and I smiled. Because you can't _not _smile when a very attractive boy tells you that your eyes look like the last rays of a dying sunset.

"7:45 A.M.?" He confirmed, standing up.

"I'll be ready."

And when he was gone, his cologne lingered.

* * *

The next morning, Edward was 20 minutes earlier than expected. Gran greeted him, insisted he come in for breakfast, and sent him to the kitchen where my dad was dishing out banana pancakes.

My parents were already aware of Edward's plight, straying carefully away from any talk of his family. Instead, Dad discussed the upcoming football season with Edward, and Mom crooned over his personalized tie. It was the same shade of burgundy as my pleated school skirt I had just put on, and had an intricate family crest embroidered at the bottom.

Once we ate, I did a final check through the small duffle bag of extra clothes I was bringing along, bid my family goodbye until tomorrow, and tumbled outside with Edward. He took my duffle bag and put it in the backseat before opening his passenger side door for me.

Soft classical music played on the way to school and the sunshine was an especially bright gold. I reached across the center console, plucked the Aviator sunglasses right off of Edward's face, and slid them on my own.

"It's too bright," I explained.

Edward just smiled at me and drove.

Thanks to the Banana Pancake Breakfast Jamboree earlier, Edward and I were just barely able to sneak into our respective first periods. Rose and I whispered excitedly about her birthday party in English, and then again in DNA Science. By Physics, I was wired. Eric took one glance at me and shook his head. Edward was studiously answering the example problems from the whiteboard.

Airplane acceleration, free falls, velocity - I didn't care.

"You know, I'd hate you if you weren't so damn stylish," Eric murmured to me.

I was confused. "And the source of this conditional hate is...?"

"Please," Eric puffed, "Mr. Cullen has his sights on you." I went to object, but Eric beat me. "Don't even, Snow Cone. I was also late this morning. Nice ride by the way."

Eric and I stared at Edward's sharply-planed profile. "If not me, then I'm glad it's you," he sighed dreamily. "You want a man with a strong jawline so you have a sturdy place to sit."

I shook off the sexual innuendo. "Snow Cone?" I asked instead, of his name for me.

"You're like, flawlessly pale," Eric smirked.

I took that as a compliment and when the bell rang, I walked with him and Edward to lunch.

* * *

When 3 P.M. struck, it felt like all the crazy, coiled energy I'd been harnessing melted away. Edward met me outside of the girls' locker room.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

I thought of the small bag of chips I'd had for lunch. "Starving actually."

He grinned. "Great. I think Rose and Jasper were planning on going to Joe's Diner."

I suddenly remembered Rose raving about "_truly amazing chili cheese waffle fries_."

"Do you want to meet them there?" He asked as we approached his car.

I felt the heat of Lauren's friend, Bree (one of the Blonde Trio), staring at us from across the parking lot. "Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

"Here?" Edward's shoulder blades moved and worked like water beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt. As soon as we had gotten done eating with Rose and Jasper at Joe's Diner, and had arrived at his lake house, he changed into dark jeans and a flimsy black shirt. When I nodded, he pinned the banner in place.

The banner read _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_

The living room of Edward's lake house was decorated in shades of pink (Rose's favorite color): magenta, shell pink, fuchsia, neon pink. There was a giant sheet cake on the kitchen counter and an old picture of Rose, Jasper, and Edward blown up into a poster hung on the door. There was also alcohol - tons of it. Beer, cheap wine and champagne, wine coolers. I had used my fake ID to acquire all of it.

"When is everyone coming?" I asked, glancing out the back windows at the rapidly darkening night.

Edward looked at the clock. "Any-"

The doorbell rang. It was Jessica and a blonde boy who also went to our school, but I had never met. He had spiky hair that looked perennially wet and a baby face; his name was Mike Newton and he appreciated my legs a little too much for my liking upon entering the house. I had changed into a tank top and jean shorts with my bathing suit underneath.

Rose came next, excitedly fawning over all the decorations. I gave her my small, wrapped box. It was this little vintage tennis bracelet that was much like one my mother had given me years ago - twisting rose gold vines and small crystals dotted around the wrist.

"It's _amazing_!" Rose said in disbelief.

I smiled and hugged her.

"It looks like yours!" She squealed suddenly. "They're like, friendship bracelets." Her smile was wide and blinding white.

Jasper, Eric, Angela, and another boy I hadn't met yet, Tyler arrived next. And soon the entire living room was filled with our classmates. Angela, a surprisingly talented bartender, doled out different drink combinations, and Jasper controlled the music. When "Big Poppa" came on, Jasper drifted over to me, clunking a muscular arm over my shoulders.

"Beauté."

I chuckled. "Hello, Drunkie."

"Heeey," he sang in mock-hurt, "You catch a lot of flies with honey, but you catch more honeys being fly."

I really wasn't sure what to say to that particular piece of gold so I laughed and found my way back to Rose.

Eventually we all moved from the house to the outside area. The backyard was a big green expanse that gently sloped downward to meet a thin strip of sand and rocks that separated the lake from the grass. A runway-like pier jutted out into the steely, lapping waves.

A cluster of peeling Adirondack chairs were sunk into the sand, forming an imperfect circle around a firepit. I nabbed one of the chairs and took a swig from the champagne bottle I was carrying around.

"Hey, Bella," Jasper coaxed, mischief evident in his light eyes. "Are you a thinker or a doer?"

"I like to say I think before I _do_ anything," I answered diplomatically.

He grinned. "Truth or dare?"

His question sparked a craze. Apparently they were infamous for their uncomfortable dares and truths.

I chose dare.

"I dare you to jump fully clothed into the lake."

I thought of the mud and muck that would bog my clothes. "Fine."

Everyone watched with rapt interest as I skipped down the pier and jumped straight into the water. A few classmates were already swimming so I knew the water wasn't cold, but what I wasn't expecting was the complete lack of _nothing_ beneath my feet. No slimy floor for my feet to find purchase on and no railing to hold on to.

I swam as quickly as I could back to shore, immediately met by Rose with a beach towel.

"Now it's Bella's turn!" Bree announced.

I shook my head. "I'm changing first."

Edward walked back to the house with me and took the now-soaking beach towel to the laundry room. I dug through my bag but soon realized all I had left was my uniform from that day and an extra camisole and underwear.

"Edward!" I called.

He drifted back into the room.

"Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I didn't bring enough clothes."

"Sure." I followed him upstairs to a room right off the second landing. He rummaged through a dresser and produced a navy blue t-shirt that said RHETT ACADEMY BULLDOGS.

"Thank you," I breathed gratefully. I changed in the bathroom downstairs. The t-shirt was incredibly soft and thin. I coiled the bottom of it in a rubber band to adjust the long length, and slipped on the new underwear and my scarlet uniform skirt.

"How do I look?" I emerged from the bathroom and jokingly twirled.

Edward's eyes were stained glass of moss, ocher, and verdigris. "You," he murmured, "are very beautiful."

I studied his face with the eye of a craftsman. Edward wasn't just completely gorgeous - he was _interesting_ to look at. What with those unique eyes, full mouth, and enviable cheekbones. He was a masterpiece.

"C'mon," I said after a thick moment, "let's go make Jasper do something gross."

An hour later, and I'd gotten my revenge. With Jasper (and everyone else, really) sufficiently drunk, he had proudly accepted my dare and performed three laps around the house buck naked. Eventually (after too much coaxing), he'd put his clothes back on and disappeared to raid Edward's kitchen.

Edward drunk was a magnificent sight to witness. His cheeks were perpetually soft pink and his hair was a massive mess of thick tangles. Every so often he burst into giggles at the story Rose was weaving.

My own head was light and swimmy, my eyes drooping.

"Hey, Sleepy."

My eyes popped open and Edward's face was in mine.

"Go to bed," he whispered softly.

"Can't make it," I declared. "I'll sleep out here tonight."

"No," he shouted in drunken alarm. "There's coyotes...and meth addicts."

I began laughing hysterically, which caused a domino effect within the circle of remaining people.

"Let's go," Edward murmured, pulling me up. "I'll give you a piggy back ride."

It took three tries for me to successfully get on Edward's back without sliding right back off.

"Night, everyone!" Edward called.

Rose blew a kiss to us and resumed talking with Bree. Lauren was ramrod straight and watching us with flaming eyes. I'd seen her try to (unsuccessfully) talk privately with Edward earlier in the night.

As Edward hiked up the lawn, I bent forward and tightened my hold on his neck. He erupted in laughter. "Stop!" He pleaded.

"What?" I giggled.

"Your hair," he gasped, "is tickling me." He hauled me into the house and past our classmates passed out on the couch and floor. Up the stairs, Edward fell many times against the wall and stair railing, but refused to let me down.

He walked us into the same room I'd gotten the t-shirt from, and in the home stretch of the bed, he tripped and both of us fell into the soft down of the mattress. I rolled over in hysterics as Edward readjusted himself to lay on his back.

It took a few minutes for the giggles to die down, and then the room was just a dark haven with the wonderful, rhymthic sound of the ceiling fan.

"Bella," Edward said. "Can I ask you something?"

I let my head fall to the side to look at him. "Yes."

He took a moment to think. "Do you think I'm a bad person to refuse to speak to Lauren about our relationship?"

I thought about it. "Did you guys ever get the chance to really talk when you broke up?"

"No," he said automatically. "I just told her I couldn't handle a relationship..._then_, and went away for the summer. We've barely talked since I've been back."

I could only be completely honest. "It would probably help her get closure. If you don't plan on getting back together with her."

"I don't."

"You should talk to her," I said eventually.

I could feel him nod. "I will, but not tonight. I'm just too tired," he whispered.

And then under the cover of darkness, he held my hand and we fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**I apologize for the brevity of this chapter but I'm 12 hours away from home on vacation. I will try to get another update in before next Friday to make up for it! Also, I do not have my laptop so this is being written on a iPhone. Just a warning for any mistakes you might find. **

* * *

Monday morning brought a glowing, excited, bright-eyed Rosalie. Her smile stretched ear to ear and there was a particular manic twinkle to her eyes.

"What's got you so happy?" I asked skeptically in first period.

Her grin grew impossibly wider. "Royce King asked me out."

I searched internally for any mention of a Mr. King, but none came to mind. "Who?"

Rose sighed. "He was the tall, muscular guy who came to the party. Got dared to eat that wasabi from Edward's fridge? Sandy brown hair slicked back?"

No recollection. I snorted though, at the description of such a lover boy. "Sounds sexy."

"Whatever," she huffed in mild exasperation.

At lunch, I came face to face with Royce King. He was the newest addition to our lunch table per his new status as Rose's boyfriend.

He was attractive enough, in a candy ass prep kind of way. He had sleepy blue eyes and low cheekbones, with a penchant for staring and Brooks Brothers apparently.

"Isabella, right?" This was the first thing he ever said to me.

"Bella," I corrected him.

He looked into my eyes with an apathy that was astounding. "I prefer Isabella if you don't mind."

I cast a disbelieving look at a snickering Jasper and Edward, and hoped to God it was the last thing Royce King ever said to me.

After school, I drove to Oak Ridge Memorial. I had been accepted into their shadowing program and would be an intern under the Clinical Research Department. Dr. Caius Volturi was my mentor.

He was a handsome, imposing man with white-blonde hair and a near-constant blank expression. He gave me a tour of the facilities and then set me to work on organizing charts in his office.

Dr. Volturi's office was one of two in a suite; a small sitting area separated his office from psychologist Dr. Siobhan. Their placing together was inexplicable.

After three hours of work I set off for home. My phone rang as I pulled in the driveway. Edward.

"Hello?"

"Is this Isabella?" Edward put forced emphasis on my name.

"Har har," I replied sarcastically.

He chuckled, but then quickly silenced. "So what are you doing?"

"Just got home actually," I said, pressing my head against the seat. "I had my first day of my internship at the hospital."

"You're going to be some big scientist one day. I can feel it."

I smiled. "Maybe. I'm still entertaining med school. We'll see."

"My dad would love you." He paused. "Actually, I was calling to see if you wanted to come over for dinner sometime this week. That way we can get started on the project for lab."

My yes couldn't come out quick enough.

"Great," Edward purred at my confirmation. "I'll see you at school tomorrow then."

I'll miss you until then, I thought privately.

"See you," I said out loud.


	9. Chapter 9

**I apologize for my absence, but pleased to say that I'm finally back home so updates should commence regularly. **

* * *

It was Thursday night when I went to Edward's house for dinner. Edward opened the door with a surprisingly straight face on, beckoning me in with an outstretched hand. The house smelled of Mexican food and the dining room table was set up with taco shells, flour tortillas, and various bowls of salsa, cheese, and sour cream. My stomach tightened in hunger.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, hearing the vague buzz of voices from somewhere inside the house.

Edward rubbed his face tiredly. "It's just been a very long day."

I was confused. At school, Edward seemed fine, happy even. Now, it was a complete 180.

"Bella," Esme crooned, coming straight for me with open arms. I hugged her and got a huge wave of vanilla scent. "We're so happy to have you for dinner."

I smiled. "Thank you for inviting me. It smells great."

And then an imposing blonde man filled the doorway between the dining room and kitchen. He had white-blonde hair that looked like it had been previously slicked back but it was now ruffled in aggravation or sloppiness. His skin was dangerously pale and his eyes were a glassy blue. He looked nothing like Edward.

"Oh, Bella," Esme spoke up, "this is my husband, Carlisle. Carlisle, this is Edward's friend from school, Bella. She's Mrs. Swan's granddaughter. From just down the road."

Carlisle nodded and took a sip from his tumbler of amber-colored liquid. "Pleased to meet you, Bella."

I inclined my head, sensing tension. I followed Esme into the kitchen and helped carry the food out to the table. In silence, we all piled separates onto our plates and proceeded to make our tacos and burritos.

"So, I hear you two are working on a lab project," Esme began.

"Yeah," Edward replied, "some boring science stuff."

Carlisle sat his food down with calculation. "Science is not some stupid subject with which you can ease by and not give a shit."

The table stilled. My heart sped up in secondhand humiliation.

"Carlisle, not now," Esme whispered.

Carlisle shook his head and resumed eating.

"What's your track at school, Bella?" Esme asked, changing the subject swiftly.

I was grateful. "Molecular Biology, but I'm open to pursuing similar fields."

"What will you do with that?" Carlisle asked, all hostility wiped from his expression.

"I was actually thinking of studying at Oxford with my brother. Or perhaps, medical research. I'm not set on one particular thing."

"See," Carlisle tilted his head at me, "_that's_ a real future. A _real _career path. Not some jaunty pasttime."

Edward's hand tightened and crumbled his taco shell instantly.

"Carlisle," Esme said, staring fixedly at him.

"Fuck this," Carlisle muttered and shoved back from the table, stalking away and up the stairs.

Esme looked down at her plate, tears instantly spilling over her cheeks. "Excuse me," she murmured, slinking away to another part of the house.

Edward's face was in his hands. I recognized the frustration from earlier.

"I am so sorry," he mumbled. "I'm completely mortified."

"No, don't worry." I touched his arm. "Hey, let's work on our project."

I was desperate to get his mind off of what just happened. We left our plates, the remains of dinner, and the tension in the dining room, and went outside to the garage. We sat in his SUV and reclined the seats.

"They haven't been the same since Alice died," Edward said quietly. "Fighting constantly. When he's actually around, that is. He gets pissed off about the smallest things."

I kept quiet, knowing that this wasn't a time for replying, but for reflecting.

"He's such a dick."

"Hey," I whispered, taking hold of his hand. "Let's talk about something happy."

He sniffed and put on a small smile. "Okay. How has your week been going then?"

I thought it over. "Good actually. I'm really liking my internship. I'm working with this Dr. Volturi. So far, my work has been boring, just organizing paperwork and files and such. But he shares an office suite with this psychologist, Dr. Siobhan, and she likes to play classic rock on her radio when she's there."

"Dr. Siobhan?" Edward sat straight up.

"Yeah." I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"She was Alice's doctor. One of the last people she talked to before she..."

"Oh."

"Maybe I can come visit you one night," Edward said with calculation. "Keep you company."

I stared at him. He was completely still and staring straight ahead. "Yeah, we'll see."


End file.
